Plausible Love Story
by Ecrivaine25
Summary: AU. In which Dalton functions like an actual prep school. Kurt and Sebastian attempt to navigate the treacherous waters of insular high schools. Rated for language (they're teenagers) and alcohol.


AN: It's been a while. The season 3 timeline is way off but I find myself not entirely caring. Longer note at the bottom, if you make it there, about why I'm writing this. I don't own Glee.

* * *

This is how Dalton is better than McKinley: the students are far more polite and genuinely interested, for the most part, in learning.

This is how one is not better, simply different: these classmates, too, exclude outsiders; they just do it with carefully cordial smiles in place.

* * *

The last day of Kurt's junior year at Dalton finds him hiding out in the garden as he struggles to reach some semblance of peace.

He's tired. That's the only word for it, no matter what his ACT prep book would have him think. Tired of Warblers rehearsals governed by some arbitrary rules of etiquette, tired of meetings with college counselors, of sucking up to teachers to ensure he gets sterling letters of recommendation, of learning about parties the week after they've happened, and dear god, if he hears one more classmate talk about his summer plans to take a trip to some exotic country, he's going to scream.

Really, it's been quite the diversion, but he'd like to get back to the real world now. But if Kurt has learned anything in his brief seventeen years, it's that life has its way of throwing plenty of hurdles at him. He's still mulling over the meeting he had last quarter with Dalton's college counselor, Mrs. Brubaker, which definitely qualifies as yet another complication.

"_It delights me to hear that your friends are so eager to help," she'd said over her shoulder, plucking his file out of the cabinet behind her desk. "And I know that in certain ways, going back to your old school would feel more fulfilling than staying here. But I must urge you to think about this carefully, Mr. Hummel. I know just how hard you've worked with the Warblers and the Dalton-Crawford choir, and it's going to be difficult to explain your transfer to colleges when Dr. Watson is prepared to write a glowing recommendation for you."_

And just like that, he found himself agreeing to stay at Dalton for the rest of his high school career. What's more, he would be boarding next year thanks to a fairly substantial package from the financial aid office.

It's kind of funny, he thinks, stretching his arms above his head. He's freer here than he ever was at McKinley, but he's just as trapped as ever.

* * *

_From: Mercedes Jones_

_ur home on sunday, right? lets hit the mall on tuesday. fam's in town 4 wknd._

_To: Mercedes Jones_

_I'd love to see your fabulous self, but I start my mechanic certification course then. Maybe Saturday? Dad still wants me home Friday nights. I need all the McKinley gossip you've got._

_From: Mercedes Jones_

_lol i never thought youd spend your free time at the garage. _

_To: Mercedes Jones_

_Ugh, me neither. The college counselor at Dalton thinks finishing my certification will be good for my apps. At least I'm not doing community service in Africa like some of the other guys…can you imagine what that'd do to my skin?_

_From: Mercedes Jones_

_lol talk to u soon, prep school boy_

* * *

Horror of all horrors, he has a roommate.

"So, let me get this straight," Kurt says. "You're transferring here for your _senior year_?"

"Got it in one," the other boy—Sebastian, the nameplate on the door reminds him—responds with a smirk.

"Lovely. What college accepted you at birth, then?"

Sebastian quirks an eyebrow. "Well, aren't you feisty? Rebelling against the patriarchy, are we?" He glances lazily at Kurt's closet. "One Burberry trench coat at a time. What's the family business?"

"My dad's a mechanic," Kurt responds, tensing up as he waits for the other boy's response.

"How delightfully plebeian," he drawls.

(And maybe Kurt expected worse from him, but he's still not letting this elitist asshole off that easily. Later that evening he hears his new roommate on the phone with someone, presumably a family member, assuring that _yes, I'm all settled in _and _yes, I'm looking into trying out for the Warblers _and Kurt opts not to share that he's a council member. It's very unbecoming of a Dalton boy to eavesdrop, after all.)

* * *

Sebastian's face upon seeing Kurt seated at the council table for the audition is more than worth the small amount of guilt he feels for watching his new roommate worry about audition songs for a week without offering any help or consolation. Of course, then the asshole has to open his mouth, and Kurt may not like him much, but even he has to admit that Sebastian can sing. He performs _Glad You Came, _by The Wanted, and Kurt rolls his eyes at his shameless flirting with Blaine after swallowing down a small lump in his throat.

* * *

_From: Blaine Anderson_

_help me study for French? i swear coffee's on me for the next month_

_To: Blaine Anderson_

_Only for a little while, okay? ACT scores are coming out tomorrow morning and I should try to get some sleep._

_From: Blaine Anderson_

_how could i forget? i guess i'm just disappointed we haven't spent much time together this year even though you're boarding now. i'll let you have your rest then_

_To: Blaine Anderson_

_Another time, I swear. You know how much I've been worrying about this._

* * *

It's five in the morning and he hasn't slept at all.

He stares blankly at his laptop screen. He doesn't want to be too hasty.

_Another round of Minesweeper,_ he thinks. _Just one. _He loses.

5:02 AM.

5:05. _Waiting won't change anything. There's always the October test if I screw this up._

He opens the bookmarked website and types in his information. With a deep breath, he clicks on the button at the center of the page.

_Kurt E. Hummel. Dalton Academy._

_Composite score: 35 out of 36_

_No. No fucking way. _He logs out and logs back in. _35. Oh my god. Oh my god. This is real. This can't be real._

His heart is racing too quickly for him to bother looking at his subscores. He'll call his dad at a more reasonable hour; this moment is his. _I can do this, _he says to himself with a grin. _I can get out of Ohio._

* * *

He can't do this. He officially can't deal with his classmates today. Tell Blaine Anderson - a junior, he might add, who isn't even taking the ACT for another six months - about his test scores, and suddenly the whole senior class knows. After his British literature class lets out at 3:15, Kurt hightails it back to his room before he can overhear anyone else gossiping about him. The moment the door slams shut, he lets loose the rant he's been dying to give all day; he's learned that telling off invisible people in the privacy of his dorm room ends much better for him than "behaving inappropriately" in public as a general principle.

"I swear to god, Blaine - one minute I'm not _spending enough time_ with you because I happen to be a senior at this godforsaken school and then what, you're my dad or something? You need to tell everyone my business? I might as well print out my Social Security number on 443 little slips so everyone at Dalton can have a copy. It's 237-_fuck-you_. And of course there's no consequences for you; _I'm _the one who gets to hear Wyatt and Jamie talking about me in the third floor bathroom. '_Heard about Hummel's scores? How the hell did that happen? Think he's going to try to push for valedictorian? Kind of hard when your only AP is _Music Theory. _Psh.' _Fuck you, Blaine, and fuck this whole fucking school._" _

With a huff, he collapses onto his bed.

"Put a dollar in the swear jar, Pollyanna," his roommate chastises him from the closet.

Kurt jumps. "Shouldn't you be at lacrosse practice right now?" he responds.

"If you haven't noticed, it's raining."

Kurt glances out the window. "Oh."

"Trouble in paradise? Wait, no, let me rephrase that. Anderson and his undying love for everyone's attention are still going steady."

"I thought you thought he was a 'hot piece of ass' or whatever."

Sebastian shrugs. "He's nice to look at. Doesn't mean he's not the most self-obsessed kid here."

Kurt raises an eyebrow in thought. "You're serious. Wow. And that's saying something. I know how much time we both spend on our hair."

"You tell no one," Sebastian insists. "_This_," he says, gesturing at his face, "is how I roll out of bed."

"Thanks, I think." Kurt trails off.

He doesn't know why the next thing he says comes out. Maybe he's just feeling spiteful; that's probably it. He's stressed, he's had an awful day that was supposed to be great, and Blaine didn't mean to screw up except he did and he's an easy target. But the fact that his narcissistic roommate is suddenly and inexplicably acting _human _might be part of it too.

Kurt sighs. "He's just…he's just so _exhausting _sometimes. Heaven forbid I ever have something going on that takes my attention away from him. But - you can't make fun of me for this, okay? - he's my only real close friend here. I need him. I know I'm different and it's not always in a good way and he helps me figure out when I need to pick my battles." He pauses. "But…ugh, thank _god_ you weren't here when I first joined the Warblers last year. You would have made so much fun of me. I can't even say I'd blame you."

Sebastian seems to be elsewhere in thought. Kurt waits for a few seconds, only to be startled by Sebastian ignoring the easy bait and asking, "How exactly did you make it onto the council then? You seem to have a fair number of …disputes with how Wes and David are running things."

"Oh, that's easy. I petitioned my old high school to let me take music theory classes at Lima Community when it became apparent I might not get to be front and center with my glee club. I tested into Dalton's AP class when I transferred. After yet another failed solo audition in which I attempted to show how other genres could be arranged for a cappella, they realized I might actually know something about music."

"You wanted to take over from Blaine?"

"I was jealous for a while, and it wasn't very pretty for us. Blaine…we're friends, but he takes these things very personally. I guess I expected things to be different at a new school, but teenagers are still teenagers."

* * *

_Kurt and his father are seated on a bench outside the bursar's office. This particular wing of the school is largely made up of administrative offices, and the hallway is deserted. Burt grasps his baseball cap in his hands as he glances around the corridor, seeming unsure of whether or not to put it back on. He takes a deep breath._

"_Look, kiddo, I'll be honest, they're giving us a lot more money than I thought they would. I'll admit I was worried about paying for another year, especially with college coming up. But if you think this is the right place for you, it's my job as your dad to do whatever I can to keep you here. I just want you to make the most of it. Can you promise me that?"_

_Kurt hesitates. In many ways leaving Dalton would be easier, more comfortable. He'd get to ditch the terrible poly-blend blazer and maybe he and Blaine could get together without the social chasm between them._

_He says, "Dalton can help me with college in ways McKinley never could, and there are no bullies here," but he thinks, "I'm scared of different things instead."_

* * *

_From: Sebastian Smythe_

_Anderson's sulking in my chair about something. He says he's going to wait until you come back. He's in my chair. As in, the chair that is mine. Get your ass over here and get him to leave._

_To: Sebastian Smythe_

_Need to get back to Two Twinks, One Cock? I'll be there in five._

_From: Sebastian Smythe_

_Fuck you very much._

"Kurt, I'm glad you're here," Blaine says before Kurt has even closed the door. "I need to talk to you about something. Could you leave us?" he asks, turning to Sebastian.

"Not gonna happen, O Mighty One. I've got a speech to listen to for French tomorrow," he responds, holding up his headphones.

"Kurt, this really shouldn't-"

"It's fine, Blaine," Kurt insists. "Sebastian won't hear us."

"Headphones are on," Sebastian announces from his desk. "Go ahead and talk about that threesome you're dying to have with me."

Blaine has that affronted look on his face, and before he can say anything, Kurt rushes to interrupt, "It's fine, he's joking. He does this a lot."

Blaine casts a short glance over at Sebastian, then seems to change his mind, clearing his throat and focusing back on Kurt.

"Okay, listen, Kurt, I don't want you to get mad, but I have to talk to you about the Warblers. I've been thinking about our possible set lists for the fall, and we really need to revisit something we talked about last year."

Kurt mentally braces himself for another conversation about solos for Blaine, preparing his delivery of his favorite line, _that decisions regarding set lists and other Warbler business can only be made through an official meeting of all three council members, _taken verbatim from Wes with emphasis on _official _removed, emphasis on _all three _added.

Regardless, Blaine carries on, with a cursory look over toward Kurt's roommate as he insists, "We need to think about adding sex appeal to our songs. One of the judges at regionals last year said I was _cute, _Kurt! _Cute! _I'm a seventeen year old boy. I don't want to be _cute._"

Blaine pauses as if to make sure Kurt has realized the depths of this latest tragedy, then continues in a softer voice, "I know this might not be comfortable for you, what with Karofsky and all, because I know you're _sensitive _about that, but I really think this will help us get to Nationals this year. Imagine us making it to New York! I know how much that would mean to you."

He's not sure if he's supposed to feel supported or condescended to.

And with that, his plan for surviving this conversation has been thrown out the window.

* * *

Half an hour later, after Blaine has been escorted out of the room, Kurt takes a deep breath and looks back at Sebastian, whose headphones are still in place.

"You're new here, so you might not know this, but I help Madame Lemercier with grading for extra credit. I know you don't have any listening homework this week."

Sebastian doesn't even pretend to pause any audio or remove his headphones for the sake of hearing as he responds, "Oh, I know. Just interested in the dramatic lives of the real housewives."

"You know," Sebastian trails off, breaking the silence between his calculus homework and Kurt's English essay, "as much shit as you're getting for being smarter than everyone thought, I think you were dropped on your head multiple times as a small child."

Kurt turns around in his desk chair to ask, "What, pray tell, do you know that I don't, and how long can I expect you to lord it over me?"

Sebastian raises a hand up to stop him, saying, "Easy, killer. The way I see it is this: we both want the same thing, for someone other than Great Fearless Leader Blaine to get to sing something once in a while, and while all I can do is subtly indicate my clear superiority by singing enough racy Top 40 hits for my audition songs to get him panting after me, you can actually _do something about it._"

Kurt purses his lips. "You're anything but subtle, and despite what you think, the whole school isn't lusting after you." He pauses. "I'm listening."

"I propose an alliance."

* * *

At Sectionals they sing yet another Maroon 5 cover, because if Kurt's learned anything at Dalton it's how to work within the system. This time, though, it's _Moves Like Jagger, _more upbeat, and requiring more choreography than their trusty one-two step. Sebastian and another senior share the role of front man, and Kurt finally gets to lead his team on his own for a short while by picking up Christina Aguilera's vocals. They win, beating out the girls' team from the neighboring Crawford Country Day School and a group from the local community college.

Blaine sulks for a little while about leading only the first song of their set, but it was an _official council decision _that the solos on the latter song go to singers prepared to keep up with the choreography in full breath, and if Sebastian and Kurt had started going to the school gym together in the weeks prior to the auditions, that was definitely just a coincidence.

* * *

Kurt gets back to the dorm a few hours later, following a meeting with Wes and David to review their notes from the judges. He doesn't even realize he's humming _We Are the Champions _until Sebastian yells from the bathroom, "I assume it went well then!"

As his roommate returns from the bathroom with his weekend bag in hand, Kurt demurs, muttering, "I think it could have been a lot worse." The smirk works its way up his face in about three seconds flat as Sebastian raises an eyebrow at him, and he amends with, "They're listening to me when it comes to choreography from now on. _Movement much improved from last year. _They liked that we didn't have just one soloist too. I think Wes is shell-shocked. I almost feel bad for him…Congratulations, by the way. They liked you a lot. They must have gone temporarily blind and deaf, mais c'est la vie," he adds, shrugging his shoulders.

"I'm going to ignore your bitchiness because I'm the _bigger _man," he says, winking, "and also because I need you to run downstairs to the mart for some orange juice." At Kurt's confused face he opens up his bag and takes out a large clear bottle, placing it on the desk next to him and explaining, "Vodka. We're celebrating. I believe Blaine told some embarrassing story about you and bad wine in one of his numerous attempts to get the time of day from me, so I doubt you'd like your first time actually drinking to involve shots and nothing else."

"That's…strangely considerate." Kurt pauses. "But wait, isn't this a terrible idea? Drinking in the dorm? They're going to do room checks later."

Sebastian does that funny little smile that says _I know something you don't, _responding, "We wait until after room checks, easy as that. Tomorrow's Sunday so everyone will be sleeping in anyway. So, what's the verdict, Humbelina? You in?"

Kurt is confused, to say the least, at the idea that Sebastian knows it'll have to be just the two of them if they wait until curfew and is somehow okay with that fact. But when he thinks about it, Sebastian has friends from his classes and acquaintances from the Warblers, but he spends at least as much time teasing Kurt as he does talking to anyone else. Kurt files that thought away for further consideration at a later time, taking a deep breath and indulging the part of him that says _go on, live a little, _when he says, "You know what? I'm in. Carton of orange juice, got it."

* * *

Sebastian is a few drinks into the evening when he proclaims, "I'm not entirely a bastard, y'know."

Kurt looks up from his seat, where he's staring at his cup as he debates whether or not to finish his third, and says, "Okay, tell me. This…this should be good."

"I thought of this great nickname for you…this was pretty early in the year…but I didn't call you Twinkerbell because you, you seemed to be in a bad mood. I thought it was probably Blaine. As much as you say you're friends he seems to make you sad a lot."

Kurt isn't sure if he's supposed to say anything back, so he settles for knocking back the last of his drink.

Maybe alcohol isn't so bad after all.

* * *

The Dalton and Crawford choirs alternate their twice-weekly meetings between the two campuses, and that Monday Kurt hands Dr. Watson, the director, a teacher recommendation form after they get off the bus from Crawford.

"I understand congratulations are in order," the older man says. "But that's business as usual for the Warblers, isn't it?"

"Actually, sir, I think I've convinced them to go in a bit of a new direction. Would you mind watching one of my arrangements before you write my letter?"

* * *

They pull pop artists from a bag for the next two Warblers meetings. Kurt thinks he's off the hook after everyone spends a solid five minutes laughing at Wes' performance of _We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together, _but then suddenly it's his turn. With an exaggerated sigh, he reaches in and makes a show of rooting around for a slip of paper. Slowly he unfolds it and raises an eyebrow.

"Well, who is it?" David asks from the other end of the room.

"Nicki Minaj."

If nothing else, the whole room's eruption into laughter gives him some time to think. They're probably expecting _Superbass, _but he has another idea. He stands up and surveys the room, clearing his throat imperiously.

"Let's go, kids. _Monster. _David, Kanye West. Carter, Jay-Z. Jeff, Bon Iver. Tom, Rick Ross. I know you all know this song."

* * *

"What the fuck did I just watch?" Sebastian whispers to Wes.

"I…I don't know," he mutters back.

Logically the song was going to be at least a bit of a train wreck, but the performance wasn't nearly as bad as anyone had expected.

Kurt laughs the whole thing off, but he's beginning to remember what it feels like to be genuinely happy when he's singing.

* * *

The rest of the Warblers will tease Kurt for pulling off Nicki Minaj for at least another eternity, but the cooperative bug seems to be contagious. Blaine pulls Destiny's Child at their next practice and actually invites Sebastian and Nick up to sing _Say My Name_ with him. Trent and Danny attempt a fairly convincing Lady Gaga.

Sebastian's sitting next to Kurt on one of the Warblers' leather couches as they cheer at the end of _Love Game. _He turns slightly to address the other boy in a low voice. "Sorry Blaine didn't pick you. I know you want to have more chances to sing here."

Kurt half smiles as he replies, "It's okay; I don't need to air out all the problems in our friendship when everyone's finally starting to loosen up."

Sebastian says nothing but makes a face of shock.

"Oh, god. I sound so…responsible. Gel my hair and call me an _upstanding member of the Dalton community_, Wes is having more fun than I am."

It's true. Wes' blazer is off and he's actually smiling. It's a miracle.

Sebastian smirks a little at the corner of his mouth as Trent passes him the bag, muttering, "We'll just have to change that, won't we?"

"What," Kurt hisses, "are you planning?"

Too late. Sebastian stands up with a slip of paper. "Michael Jackson." He waits for the words to sink in. "You're all in for a treat. But I might require some assistance from Warbler Kurt," he drawls.

How Sebastian finds two violinists that are prepared to play accompaniment is a mystery to Kurt, but it's Dalton and he's learned that some things just shouldn't be questioned. Sebastian chases him around the room for most of _Smooth Criminal_, until they reach the last chorus and the other boy grabs one of his wrists to keep him in place. As the violinists hit their final note, Kurt and Sebastian trade grins and bow to the cheering Warblers - and the wolf-whistling Jeff.

Kurt notices something strange, though. Blaine is clapping politely, but he's got a look on his face that doesn't make him seem completely pleased with what he's been watching. Sebastian boasts, "_That's _how you make prep school singing look sexy, gentlemen," and his brow furrows just a little bit more.

* * *

It's 5:30 in the afternoon on a Friday. All of the day students have gone home, all of the boarding students are celebrating the end of another week, and Kurt is the only person left in the library. He has just finished his physics assignment (or at least bluffed his way through it) and he decides to give himself a five minute break before taking a look at the song list David has emailed him and beginning to work on arrangements. He leaves his books and laptop out on the desk as he gets up to fetch a drink of water.

When he sits back down, he opens up his laptop and logs on to Facebook. No new notifications or messages. Blaine is out to dinner with Jeff, Nick, and David. Sebastian is going to some gay bar with one of his lacrosse teammates. Finn and Rachel are having a date night. Mercedes…well, she's been busy; they haven't really talked in a few weeks. But it looks like she's having a sleepover with Tina.

_Everything private is very public_, he muses. And suddenly he feels inexplicably cold.

* * *

_From: Blaine Anderson_

_kurttt i need 2 ask u somethin_

_From: Blaine Anderson_

_its been bothrin. me 4 awhil_

_To: Blaine Anderson_

_Are you drunk texting me?_

_From: Blaine Anderson_

_i asked jef and he says i am yes drunk;_

_To: Blaine Anderson_

_Okay, what do you need to ask me?_

He's sitting in the chair by the window and thinking about painting his fingernails purple. He did it last year, and while it was generally frowned upon, the dress code does not expressly forbid it.

_From: Blaine Anderson_

_do u like sebstian_

_From: Blaine Anderson_

_bcuz i like him nd i think he likes me _

_From: Blaine Anderson_

_nd i dont want u 2 get the rong idea_

_To: Blaine Anderson_

_No, we're just friends. Eat something, okay? You know you get bad hangovers._

_From: Blaine Anderson_

_lol your no fun kurt_

He looks down and his hands and frowns. Blaine doesn't deserve his best nail polish right now.

It's not that he still has a crush on the other boy; that had died along with his hopes to rejoin his friends at McKinley. It's the same thing he did with Finn, really; it was so easy to see only the good parts of Blaine when he didn't spend every day with him.

But sometimes it's really hard to be seventeen and gay, and sometimes he wishes he could ignore the other parts of Blaine.

* * *

Regionals fall after winter break, so he goes home under strict orders from Wes to be careful about what he discusses with the New Directions.

But he only meets up with them as a group once, and the dynamic has shifted. Puck's out of juvie again, Quinn has been rescued from the Skanks, and the whole group appears to be sorting itself into two factions. Kurt has heard rumors that they might even be starting a new glee club, but none of them seem too willing to discuss it with him. Rachel, Santana, and Mercedes fight, and it isn't that he feels that his problems are gigantic in comparison - the New Directions are more likely than anyone to blow problems out of proportion, after all - but he does feel that they won't understand how such petty things can bother him so much. After all, he's not getting slushied or shoved into lockers any more, and goes to school with a bunch of polite rich kids. _Things could be a lot worse, _he reminds himself.

* * *

He ends up telling Sebastian about McKinley when they get back from winter break, and somehow his ordeal with Karofsky is a part of that narrative. It's not something he thinks about too often; with the gift of hindsight, he feels more pain for Dave than for himself.

"It still bothers you," Sebastian guesses.

"Well," he responds, "having my first kiss stolen wasn't ideal, and the threats legitimately terrified me, but I wish I'd seen something…I wish I could have done something more."

"You're a fucking Disney princess, I swear to god," Sebastian mutters under his breath.

* * *

Competing against two McKinley teams at Regionals is a bit of a shock, to say the least. Kurt ultimately isn't too surprised by the Warblers' victory, as it's hard to imagine the green room being a particularly friendly place for the other two teams when tensions are so high between them.

Blaine and Sebastian perform a duet (which does less to placate Blaine than was expected). David and Wes lead a group number. They're branching out and yet he feels like he's just going through the motions.

* * *

The silence of the library is suddenly disturbed by Blaine storming in and throwing his bag down on the chair next to Kurt. Kurt looks up, startled, to see the other boy's face red and his hands clenching, then unclenching

"Y-you could have told me he liked someone else!" he yells.

"Who? What are you talking about?"

"Who do you think? _Sebastian_," he hisses. "I asked him out to coffee, and he laughed at me and told me _I wasn't his type_."

Kurt blanches. True, maybe Blaine wasn't Sebastian's favorite person, but he'd thought that perhaps he was just playing hard to get…Sebastian was more interested in the _physical _side of things anyway.

"_Out to that gay bar again?" Kurt called out._

_Sebastian shrugged his shoulders from the closet where he was picking out a t-shirt. It was October, starting to get cold, but as the other boy had explained earlier with a wink,_ the less clothing the better where he was going.

"_Look, I know you consider an Antiques Roadshow marathon to be a wild night, but some of us like to have sex. Don't miss me too much. Maybe you'll find the perfect artwork for your Barbie Dream Home while you're at it."_

"I…I have no idea. He hasn't mentioned anyone to me."

Blaine frowns. "You…it's you, isn't it? I've seen the two of you. You knew I liked him, but you decided to go after him…what, is this about solos or something? Because I can't even say how selfish that is, for you to jeopardize our team just so you can get another song or two."

Not of his own volition, Kurt suddenly finds himself standing up to glare down at Blaine. "Are you completely out of your mind? I can't believe you think I'd stoop that low for one of your precious solos."

Blaine puts his hands up with that innocent look on his face. A sigh, and he runs his left hand through his hair. "You're right. I don't know what I was thinking."

"You were thinking what you often are; _something's gone wrong so let's blame it on Kurt._" He backs up from Blaine and begins to pack up his things.

"I'm really tired of this, Blaine. Call me when you're feeling rational?"

* * *

As he closes the door to his dorm room, a voice calls out, "Where've you been? I thought your choir practice ended at 4:30.

"College counseling."

"Didn't you send in all your applications?"

He takes a deep breath and bites the inside of his cheek to keep an embarrassingly huge smile off his face. _Screw it. _"Mrs. Brubaker wanted to tell me herself. I got into Tisch. I got into Tisch!" he half-exclaims, half-gasps.

Sebastian grins at him, and it looks less forced than it used to. "What are you doing tonight? I'm thinking we celebrate."

Kurt gasps. "Oh my god, I have to call my dad. I haven't called my dad!"

So that's what he does, and they both cry for a little while on the phone, and Sebastian only makes a slight bit of fun of him.

That night they drink again. Kurt does shots for the first time (_"the first one's to you, for getting the hell out of here, and the second's to places that aren't Ohio," and he loses track fairly soon after that_) and they listen to music and tell stories about their old friends and the strangest dreams they've ever had. Sebastian even massages the knots out of his neck, but he's too relaxed to think too much about it.

It's later and he's starting to feel less drunk when he asks Sebastian, "Do you do this with all of your friends?"

Sebastian just blinks at him so he continues. "I mean, you know, drinking, stories, late at night like it is now. I know you're not really going out that often because you're here with me at night."

Sebastian sighs. "No. I spend more time with you than with anyone else."

"So you can't say we're not friends. But Blaine was mad at me because you turned him down…did I get in the way somehow? Because you should tell me things if they're bothering you."

"Yes, it was you. No, not in the way you're thinking."

* * *

When he wakes up the next morning, Sebastian is gone, but there's a note on his bedside table.

_I'm going back to France next year. My dad's company is giving me an internship so I'm taking a year off before college. I've been meaning to tell you, but I guess I'm not as ready to face the real world as you are._

_This place is sheltering, you know? Of course you know. You're going to hate me for such a cop-out answer but whatever is between us is something I wasn't prepared for and I think I need some time to get to know myself better. I'm eighteen and still have to ask for permission to use the restroom; how am I supposed to know anything?_

_Things would have been much easier if I'd hated you, but my life would be infinitely duller for it too. Don't let this place make you forget who you are._

* * *

This year's national championship is in Chicago, and in some ways that means a lot less pressure than he imagines New York would present. He eats caramel corn, takes a boat tour of the city, and does a little bit of shopping with his birthday money. But he is still a Hummel, and he will still settle for nothing but his best.

The six-minute Britney Spears medley he has arranged for the occasion is thus a labor of love. It spans fourteen songs, allowing for an ample number of soloists. The crowd is on its feet by the time he takes the front of the stage for _Toxic. _They're a boys' a cappella group from Ohio in matching prep school blazers, hardly a likely candidate to win a national competition on a repertoire consisting entirely of Britney Spears songs, but as he is passed the first place trophy by a crying Wes, Kurt takes a photo of himself with his phone and sends it to his dad with no second thoughts.

* * *

There's a knock on the door. "Kurt? Can we talk?"

It's Blaine.

"Look, I'm sorry that I got a little angry…I guess I've just missed you is all."

"I really wish that that was enough," Kurt trails off.

"What?"

Kurt turns to stare at him wistfully. "Sooner or later, you're going to realize something, Blaine. There's going to be a life beyond high school. All you're going to bring with you are your memories of yourself and your memories of how you treated other people. I have a feeling that with some time, you might come to view me as one of your regrets. I still remember my best friend Blaine, but I'm not sure he remembers me. Courage, you said. This is me being brave enough to tell you that I deserve better. I'm not perfect, but I'm worth more than how you treat me."

He smiles softly. "I'm not saying goodbye. Good luck with your senior year, Blaine. Maybe I'll see you in New York some time."

* * *

Dalton's graduation ceremony is not a terribly long one, considering the small class size. Most of the students and their families linger around the campus for a while afterwards, taking pictures and saying their goodbyes to teachers. Carole has gone back to the car to find her sunglasses and Burt is busy talking to Dr. Watson when a familiar voice breaks Kurt's contemplation of the campus.

"I never answered your question, the day we were moving in."

Kurt turns around on the spot. It's Sebastian, looking rather sheepish as he wrings his hands with a sad smile.

He keeps talking. "You asked me where I was assuredly going to college, since I had the audacity to change schools so late. I'm a double legacy at Yale." He pauses. "But I'm going to Columbia instead. I got off the wait list last week. I'm leaving for France on Tuesday…but I, I really hope I run into you in New York."

Kurt sighs. "Look, I know we never really…talked about this, but you don't owe me anything. I know relationships aren't your style. I wouldn't mind having my best friend back, but only if you're comfortable with that."

Sebastian rolls his eyes. "Of course I am. Have I ever told you how stupid you are?"

* * *

Kurt is sitting in the dining hall in his dorm, stifling laughs behind his hand at an email from Blaine about the new Warblers and drinking his third coffee of the day.

It's been an adjustment, getting used to life in New York, but give him time and he'll master it. He _is _Kurt Hummel, after all.

He's contemplating getting a bowl of cereal as a mid-afternoon snack when his phone buzzes with a new text.

_From: Sebastian Smythe_

_33 Washington Square West? Your dad gave me your address. I should be like ten minutes away._

_To: Sebastian Smythe_

_What? You're in New York? _

_From: Sebastian Smythe_

_Paris was sadly lacking in a certain department._

_From: Sebastian Smythe_

_That's you, if you're too obtuse to get it._

_From: Sebastian Smythe_

_Oh, and you're gonna need to change into nice clothes for dinner. We have a reservation at 7._

_From: Sebastian Smythe_

_I just had a little bit of growing up to do first._

* * *

AN: This is for me. I was an overachieving prep school kid, and went into my senior year on top of the world, and somehow all my friendships fell apart in the college admissions process. I was already battling depression and ended up having to take a year off from college. I want to turn my experiences into something that can create some good for other people, so I hope if you've read this far you've enjoyed something of this piece. Know that things might not always get better, but you will become stronger and better suited to deal with them as they come. I'm really bad at giving advice, but if you just need someone to listen, I respond to private messages.


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